


Nothing Compares to You

by Redamber79



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Parent John Winchester, Break Up, Closeted Dean Winchester, Coming Out, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Domestic Violence, Drunk John Winchester, Homophobia, Homophobic John Winchester, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Internalized Homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Make Up, POV Dean Winchester, Secret Relationship, john is a bully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29389605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redamber79/pseuds/Redamber79
Summary: Dean and Cas have been secretly dating for 5 years. they don't dare let John find out, but when John finds out Cas is gay it drives them apart. Can they resolve their differences while Dean stays in the closet, or will he have to stand up to the biggest bully in his life?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 18
Kudos: 145





	Nothing Compares to You

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Banshee for Beta-ing this one for me!
> 
> This was a hard one to write, and please, PLEASE heed the tags. if you need spoilers, please see the end notes.
> 
> always take care of yourselves. <3

Dean stood in the back hallway at Harvelle’s Roadhouse, his hands sweating as they gripped his guitar. He'd played at open mic night more than once, but those had just been for fun. Tonight? Everything was on the line. 

If this didn't work, if Cas didn't take him back…

He walked out onto the small stage to wolf whistles and cheers, though a few people murmured in surprise over the black eye as well. Most people couldn't land a punch on Dean. He cleared his throat, then spoke into the mic.

"Pretty sure most of you heard this by Sinead O'Connor, but my favourite version is by the late, great, Chris Cornell." He settled his guitar in his hands and strummed the opening chords.

_ It's been 7 hours and 15 days… _

_ Since you took your love away… _

*****

Cas was panting against Dean’s throat, their bodies moving in sync as they each chased their release, when the front door downstairs slammed and Dean froze. Immediately he backed away from his boyfriend, his secret. He adjusted himself painfully in his jeans and dove for the controllers that had fallen from their hands as they’d started to make out heavily. Thrusting one at Cas blindly, he turned back to MarioKart and unpaused the game. Cas took a moment to catch up to his panic, but by the time the door was flung open, they were into the next round and their hands concealed their waning arousal. Luckily it was only Sammy, who barged in with typical seventeen-year-old obliviousness to grab another controller to join their game.

Dean glanced at Cas guiltily, knowing they didn’t have to hide from Sammy, though being caught about to come in his pants would have been embarrassing as hell. Without thinking about it, he reached over and touched Cas’ knee, just for a moment, and though Cas kept his eyes on the tv, a small smile quirked his lips. Dean blew out a slow breath. They were okay.

He turned back to the game, only to watch in horror as a blue shell hit him out of nowhere. Sammy crowed with laughter, but it was Cas who looked entirely too smug, and Dean clutched a hand to his heart.

“Et tu, Cas?” he said dramatically, only to grin as Cas dissolved in a fit of laughter even as he won the race. Tossing down his controller, Dean grabbed the bag of chips and stuffed a handful into his face.

“So, Sammy, you taking Jess to the prom?” he asked around his mouthful, grinning as Sammy frowned in disgust at his manners.

“I dunno. You didn’t go to prom, what’s the big deal?” Dean glanced at Cas out of the corner of his eye and sighed. He listened carefully for any sound of John, then spoke quickly.

“Yeah, but I woulda, if I coulda gone with who I wanted to. Not much point otherwise. Besides, you’re crazy about her, you should show her a good time.”

Cas spoke up. “Ask her, Sam. Trust me, you’ll want that memory.” He smiled sadly, and Dean knew it was because even if Dean had been out at the time, their school had been absolutely unwelcoming to LGBTQ students and they wouldn’t have been able to go to the prom as a couple anyway.

As it was they were twenty-one, and while Cas was cautiously spreading his wings with their friends, Dean was still firmly in the closet; so to all and sundry, they were just best friends. The only ones who knew otherwise were Sammy and Cas’ other best friend, Meg. And of course, Charlie, who was the brazenly out exception to every rule. John somehow didn’t mind her. Girls were allowed to be gay. Or maybe John thought she’d outgrow it. But gay men? Not allowed. Not men. Not his sons.

Dean shrugged his shoulders, uncomfortable with the way his thoughts were trending, and started up another game.

***

Sammy left to start on his homework a little while later, and Dean leaned over to kiss Cas softly — not trying to start anything, but as an apology. Cas laid his head on Dean’s shoulder for a moment, then straightened.

“It’s… it’s okay, Dean. I know what your dad is like. He’d lose his mind if he caught us like that. I just…” Cas frowned, looking sad, but he didn’t continue. Dean nudged him.

“Just?”

“I’m worried, a bit. I’m starting to come out, and I don’t know how he’s going to react.”

“Cas, whatever happens, you’ve got me, okay?” Dean promised, and Cas smiled.

“Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

Dean hauled Cas to his feet and pulled him in for a quick kiss, then headed downstairs to start cooking dinner. John was off work and at the bar by now, and would be home within the hour. And if a meal wasn’t ready, there’d be hell to pay. Last thing Dean wanted was to have to step between Sammy and another punch, though he’d do it in a heartbeat. Sammy was goin’ places, he didn’t need a concussion interfering with his schoolwork. Dean was just a mechanic for their uncle Bobby, he could work the desk or take a day off — though that presented its own problems, what with John drinking away the rent money.

Sighing heavily, Dean pulled out some steaks and set them on the counter to rest, then quickly sliced some potatoes for fries. Within ten minutes they were in the oven with his blend of spices, and the steaks were covered, ready for the grill.

Cas was helping by making a salad, which only he and Sammy would eat, but Dean appreciated the help all the same. Sammy needed to eat properly, and loved that rabbit food besides.

He and Cas moved around the kitchen easily, well used to cooking together after years of practice. They’d been secretly dating for a handful of years and were practiced at moving together in a lot of ways. Smirking a little at the way his thoughts were going, Dean quickly leaned in for a kiss, surprising Cas, whose eyes lit up with little hearts at the unasked-for affection.

“Hey babe,” Dean whispered, deeply ingrained caution keeping his voice quiet.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas’ voice was a low rumble, and Dean felt his lips part on a silly grin.

“Whaddya say we go for a drive tonight?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows, and Cas blushed, knowing exactly what Dean was proposing.

“I dunno, I do have to open the coffee shop tomorrow… You could come over instead,” Cas countered, and Dean tensed at the thought of having sex in Cas’ apartment where his neighbours might hear. He turned a winning smile on Cas and coaxed softly.

“C’mon, I’ll get you home on time. Promise.”

Cas leaned in and kissed him quickly, and Dean grinned again, knowing he’d won.

Life was awesome.

***

Life was not awesome. John was home early, the fries still had fifteen minutes to go and the steaks were uncooked, though at least the grill was heating up in the backyard. Dean quickly grabbed a beer from the fridge and cracked it open, setting it on the kitchen table at his father’s spot. John stalked in, his eyes blearily red, his toolbox thunking to the floor heavily as he tracked plaster and sawdust into the house. More for Dean to clean up after John was passed out in front of the TV; but what else could he do, let them live in filth? It was his job to clean up. Dean hoped that the cold beer would distract John from the lack of food on the table, but he barely paused before he stomped over to Dean and grabbed him by the collar, shaking him for a moment before shoving him across the kitchen to hit the counter with a wince. He was in for it — dinner always had to be ready. Dean trembled, bracing himself for another blow. Cas stood frozen across the kitchen, having learned years ago not to get in John’s way when he was after the boys, unless he wanted a punch himself.

But what came out of John’s mouth chilled Dean’s blood.

“Saw an old friend of yours from high school at the bar today. Cole… Whatever his name was.”

“Cole Trenton? Cole and I were never friends, Dad. He hated me, I hated him,” Dean asserted, wondering what Cole had said. Had he seen him and Cas out somewhere? If so, Dean was dead. His eyes flicked to Cas for a second, who was watching John like he was a rabid animal, unpredictable and dangerous. No sudden movements. 

“So you’re telling me he was lying,” John ranted, picking up the beer and swallowing half of it in one draw before slamming the bottle back down on the table. The commotion drew Sammy out of his room, and he stopped in the doorway, watching warily.

“Probably. Cole had it in for me since I made quarterback and he got benched. He sucked anyway.” Dean tried to keep his tone light, but John was looming in his space again, his hands clenched into fists.

“That so? ‘Cause what he said was that my son, Dean,  _ my son  _ has been hanging out with a fucking fairy since the sixth grade,” John spat, turning to level a hateful glare at Cas.

Dean froze for a heartbeat, then started to laugh. John whirled on him, and Dean bit back the sound desperately. They weren’t caught. Not yet.

“Cole’s just jealous that Meg wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole,” he blurted, lying as quickly and convincingly as he could. Anything to redirect John’s anger.

“Dean…” Cas spoke his name softly, his expression… hurt. Shit. But he couldn’t take it back now, and he steamrolled ahead.

“Everyone in high school knew Cas and Meg were together, just his parents didn’t approve of her. Cas isn’t gay, Dad.”

“You sure about that? Because I taught you better than to hang out with a faggot, much less invite one into our home so often.” John’s bloodshot eyes narrowed, and he sniffed heavily, as though testing the air for gay, Dean thought hysterically as John grabbed his collar and shook him again, breathing bourbon-soaked breath in his face. “You bring a faggot around, you best be ready to kick their ass when you find out, otherwise people might think you’re a fag, too.”

“Yessir,” Dean mumbled, hating himself. “No, sir. Wouldn’t ever do that…”

He glanced over at Cas, and his heart ached as he saw the tears standing in his boyfriend’s eyes. Cas took a slow shuddering breath, his shoulders slumped, and that was when Sammy stepped into the fray.

“Dad, what the hell is wrong with you? There’s nothing wrong with being gay, and even if Cas were, it’d be none of your business! He’s a great guy, been Dean’s best friend for ten years, and you say bigoted garbage like this?”

John whirled on his younger son for daring to talk back, his fist raised. Cas opened his mouth to interrupt and Dean flinched. Cas was drawing John’s attention away from Sammy, saving him a beating.

“I know when this ‘faggot’ isn’t welcome. Don’t worry, Mr. Winchester,” Cas said, his voice preternaturally calm. “I won’t be around to taint Dean any longer. You have a pleasant evening.”

For half a heartbeat, there was an echoing silence after Cas’ admission, then John launched himself at Cas with an enraged roar, only slowed by Sammy hauling on his arm. 

“Dean, help me!” Sammy yelled, even as Cas stared down the drunk that was Dean’s father. How could he… why did he have to do this now?

Dean hesitated, and at that moment, he saw Cas’ heart break. He remembered his own promise upstairs, that Cas would always have him. Too late, he stepped forward, his mind catching up with Cas’ words. Cas was leaving him. This wasn’t them sneaking around, stealing kisses on the sly, quick, fumbling sex in the Impala, parked where no one could catch them. This was it. As he joined Sammy in holding back John, Cas grabbed his habitual trenchcoat and slung it over his shoulders, then walked out the door without a backwards glance, tears glinting in the afternoon light.

“Cas…” His boyfriend’s name slipped past his lips and John turned his anger on Dean.

“Lie to me, boy?” He grabbed Dean by the collar again, twisting it sharply against his throat and choking him. “Bring that fudge-packer into my house? This is  _ my  _ house,  _ my  _ rules, and no fuckin’ fag is welcome around  _ my _ sons!”

Sammy dragged at John’s arm, trying to break his grip on Dean’s shirt, and was shoved into the wall for his trouble, his head slamming back to hit the drywall. As he staggered, Dean saw red. Prying John’s grip loose, he bent his thumb back and twisted his wrist around, bringing the drunk to his knees in a painful arm bar.

Breathing heavily, Dean glanced over at Sammy.

“You okay? Get your shit. We’re going to Bobby’s,” he ordered, holding John immobile and waiting for Sammy to leave the room. When Sammy ran up the stairs, Dean let John go, jumping back out of range, but the fight had gone out of the man.

“Least you still know how to fight, hanging out with that turd-burglar didn’t make you a pussy.” John clambered to his feet and staggered to the table, grabbing his beer and finishing it, then drunkenly smashed the bottle against the wall in a fit of impotent rage. Staggering to the living room, he dropped onto the couch and was snoring within moments.

Dean was shaking. Fear, anger, adrenaline… and through it all, heartbreak. Cas had left. Cas had left _him._ _What choice did you give him?_ his traitorous mind asked, and Dean wiped away a tear even as it fell.

Sammy reappeared in the kitchen as Dean was carefully covering the steaks and putting them back in the fridge. The grill was off, the oven was off, and their deadbeat dad could eat fries for dinner whenever he woke up.

“Dean…” Sammy started, and Dean shook his head roughly, clearing his throat which still ached from John’s manhandling.

“I’m packing my shit. He wakes up, don’t wait, head to Bobby’s,” Dean ordered, tossing Sammy the keys to the Impala.

“Dean! About Cas…” Sammy insisted, but Dean turned on his heel and took the stairs up to the second floor three at a time to avoid listening to his brother. Sammy must have been hurting, because he didn’t follow. 

Packing his clothes, Dean grabbed his cell phone and charger, then the laptop he’d scrimped and saved to buy to share with Sammy, and looked around his room. He waffled about grabbing the Playstation, decided against it, then shoved it quickly into his duffel bag along with the controllers and whatever games he could put his hands on. Jogging back down the stairs, he found Sammy waiting and John still unconscious in the living room, and Dean let out a slow, rattling breath.

“You drive. I’m gonna call Bobby so he knows to expect us,” Dean explained, clearing his throat again painfully.

Sammy nodded and they headed out to the Impala, pulling out of the driveway and away from their home. Dean snorted. They hadn’t had a home since their mom died when he was four. Who was he kidding? It was just a house with a drunk in charge.

***

Bobby opened the door and gruffly told them to come in, gently clapping a hand on Dean’s shoulder when Dean bent to hug the wheelchair-bound man. As Dean straightened, he saw Bobby eyeing Sammy carefully. Dean probably shouldn’t have let Sammy drive, not after his head hit that wall like that, but he didn’t want Sammy blurting out the cause of the fight just yet. Bobby and Ellen liked Cas, after all. So did their daughter Jo.

“Y’mind tellin’ me what happened to yer neck, son?” Bobby asked him, but Dean knew it wasn’t really a request, and he swallowed painfully. Bobby spun his wheelchair adeptly and moved into the living room, gesturing for the boys to grab a seat on the well-worn couch.

In as few words as possible, Dean detailed the confrontation with John, stumbling over the horrible things John had said and called Cas, his voice breaking when he said how Cas left, the way John had choked him with his flannel. The way he’d thrown Sammy into a wall. Bobby’s eyes darkened with anger, but the grizzled old man let Dean finish. When Dean was done, Bobby poured him a whiskey and nodded, and Dean fired it back, coughing roughly as his sore throat protested. He thought about asking for another, but Bobby had capped the bottle and set it aside. Given John’s relationship with alcohol, probably just as well. That was not a road Dean intended to go down.

“Either of you need a hospital?” Bobby asked, and Dean shook his head for his own sake, but looked over at Sammy.

“How’s the head?”

“I’m fine. How could you let him say those things about Cas though, Dean?” Sammy accused, and Dean winced.

“You know what Dad’s like, he’d’a killed Cas if he’d gotten his hands on him.”

Sammy’s face took on a familiar, tight-lipped expression, and Dean knew he was about to be incredibly stubborn.

“Hope it was worth it, because Cas just walked out of your life.” Dean flinched, his eyes burning, and Sammy had the grace to look embarrassed. “Sorry, Dean, I--”

“He was right to. You’re right. I didn’t stick up for him, even when the old man was sayin’ I should kick the shit outta him. What kind of… friend does that?” He stumbled over his words, a few tears spilling over, and Bobby cursed.

“Lemme get this straight, John went on a drunken rampage, and you let it break up you and Cas?” he demanded, and Dean stared at him, dumbfounded. “Close yer mouth, boy, you look like an idjit. You think I didn’t know about the two of you?”

“But-but…” Dean stammered, and Bobby gave him a level look. 

“Let’s get you boys settled in the spare room. Ellen and Jo are workin’ til close.”

Dean climbed the stairs to the second floor slowly, pulling his phone from his pocket hopefully. But there was no message from Cas: no text, no voicemail. His fingers shaking, he pressed the button to call Cas, then waited as it rang. And rang. Finally, he heard the voicemail pick up,  _ You’ve reached Cas. Make your voice a mail. _ Sighing heavily, he rubbed at his eyes.

“Cas, I’m sorry, babe. Please call me back.”

An hour later, he called back, leaving another message. At ten that night, it went straight to voicemail. Cas had turned off his cell.

Dean didn’t get much sleep that night.

***

The following morning he tossed Sammy the keys to the Impala to drive to school, while he loaded up on coffee and headed over to Bobby’s repair shop at the far side of the salvage yard. He worked through his lunch and only took a few moments through the day to check his phone, but again, radio silence. Sighing heavily, he resolved to stop by the café and speak to Cas in person.

Only when he got there shortly after three, Cas was nowhere to be found. Hannah, his coworker, shrugged and said he’d called in sick, and Dean left feeling guilty and miserable all over again. How could he have just stood there and let John say those things? Even when John suggested he should beat the shit out of any queers… Little did John know that Dean had been flying that flag since middle school. Luckily, Dean had never let it slip in front of John; who knew what kind of beating he’d have gotten? And he had to stay safe to look after Sammy.

Heading back to Bobby’s he encountered Jo in the living room. Jo was like a pesky younger sister to him, but this time she simply tossed him the TV remote and let him choose a show. The unspoken kindness was enough to let him know that word was spreading, and he swallowed a lump in his throat. He shook his head and tossed it back to her and she shrugged before starting Great British Bake Off on Netflix. Dean gave her a small smile, knowing it was his favourite and not hers, and pulled out his phone.

Still no response from Cas. He decided to call Charlie.

Charlie was Sammy’s age, but still one of his best friends, like another sister only better. Not that he’d tell Jo that. While in punching range, anyway.

“Dean! You’re calling, not texting! What’s going on?!” Charlie demanded as she answered, and Dean sighed, knowing there was no fooling her Majesty, Queen of their DnD group. He took the phone out to the porch and plunked himself down in the squeaky old swing, resolving to WD-40 it later.

“John found out Cas is gay,” he began, telling the whole sordid encounter again. Only with Charlie, who had known about Dean and Cas from day zero, he didn’t hide his guilt. “How could I let John say that shit about my boyfriend? And now Cas broke up with me, and he won’t answer my calls, and he even called in sick to work! He  _ never _ does that!”

Charlie sighed. “And he texted me to say he wouldn’t be at the game this weekend. I asked him why — he never misses DnD — but he didn’t answer. He may just need some space. Maybe call Meg to check in on him though?”

“Dammit Charlie, you know the she-devil hates me,” Dean complained, but already resolved to text her at least.

“Hate is a strong word, Dean. She doesn’t  _ hate _ you, she just dislikes you intensely.” Charlie’s voice was light and teasing, and Dean gave an unwilling smile.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” He sighed, then decided to stop by Cas’ place instead of involving Meg just yet. “I’m gonna swing by his place. See if he’ll talk to me.”

“Alright, but no boomboxes on the front lawn, okay? This isn’t the 80s, no matter what your music says.”

“Bite me, your majesty.”

“Nah, I don’t eat junk food,” she retorted with a laugh.

“Smartass.”

Hanging up the phone after a quick goodbye, Dean wandered back into the living room and dropped down on the couch. 

“So, about you and Cas…” Jo started and Dean held up a hand.

“Not going there.”

“Just sayin’ you two are a great couple, and John’s an idiot.”

“Yeah, well, Cas apparently feels otherwise…” He shrugged, slumping into the couch worn cushions.    
  
Jo elbowed him lightly and gave him a cheeky grin. “Nah, I betcha he agrees that John’s an idiot.”

Dean cracked a smile, but it quickly faded. “But I bet he thinks the same of me right now.”

“So fix it. Get your man some flowers or some shit and go see him!” she ordered, looking at him like he was brain-dead for not considering it himself.

And truth be told, he hadn’t. Sure, he was planning on stopping by Cas’ place, but flowers?  _ That was some seriously gay shit, _ he thought to himself, then stilled, replaying his own thoughts.  _ Oh. Sonofabitch… _

Pushing himself to his feet, he headed for the door, grabbing the keys to the Impala from the hook in the front hall. “Be back later!” he called over his shoulder, opening the door and jogging down the steps.

Sliding into the Impala felt like home, and he sighed softly before he started her up. Driving across town, he found a flower shop and asked the clerk, a no-nonsense woman named Missouri about flowers for an apology. She eyed him carefully, then asked if they were for a friend or a girlfriend. Dean glanced around the shop, but they were alone, and swallowed harshly. 

“They’re for my ex. My… ex,” he repeated lamely, and hated himself for being such a coward.

“Roses, sugar. How long were you together?” she asked gently, and he blinked back tears at thinking in past tense.

“Five years. I screwed up, and I want… her back,” he muttered, ducking his head and wiping a hand over his face in embarrassment.

“Red roses, then.”

“I’ll take a dozen please,” he replied, thinking of his dwindling supply of cash. Having to pay rent and for groceries because John wouldn’t really ate away at his paycheck.

“You got it.” 

Five minutes later he was pulling up in front of Cas’ house, a bouquet of flowers on the passenger seat. He parked Baby and took a deep breath. Instinctively, he looked around before getting out of the car. Who knew who might see him showing up at his ‘friend’s’ place with flowers. Then he shook his head. This was about Cas and what he meant to Dean.

Grabbing the roses from the seat, he climbed out of the car and walked up to Cas’ apartment. It was a relatively nice one bedroom, and Dean was grateful all over again that Cas’ aunt Amara had taken him under her wing after he’d been kicked out by his parents. Thinking about it, it had been only a matter of time before word got back to John about Cas, but Dean had always figured they had more time. Showed what  _ he  _ knew. Climbing the stairs to the door, Dean stood on the landing and took a deep breath. He knocked.

For a long moment, silence, then footsteps. Dean waited patiently, then started to smile as he heard the door being unlocked, only to have his smile die away when Meg opened the door.

“Hey she-devil,” he greeted, only to be met with a stony glare.

“What do you want, Dean?” she asked bluntly, and he winced. Not even a hint of teasing in her voice. 

“I’m here to see Cas.” 

“He doesn’t want to see you.” She shook her head. Then she looked over her shoulder as though considering something. “But it’s good that you’re here. Saves me a stop.”

She shut the door in his face, but before he could do more than raise a fist to knock again, the door opened and she was there with a box labeled “Dean’s”. He could guess what was in there. Mementos, his favourite hoodie that he loved to see Cas wear, a couple books, a few other things. Feeling his heart break all over again, he took the box and set it at his feet. 

“Meg, wait…” He cracked open the top of the box and rifled through it, pulling out a cassette. Handing the mixtape and the bouquet over to Meg, he cleared his throat, then spoke gruffly. “This was a gift. You keep those.”

Meg gave him a pitying look, then looked over her shoulder, past the door that was blocking his view of the apartment. She reached out, her hand disappearing from view, and when she brought it back the mixtape was gone. He was there. He was  _ right there. _

“Cas, I’m sorry.” He spoke a little louder, his voice cracking as he fought back tears, and then the door swung open further revealing Cas, who stood with his arms wrapped around his body as though shielding himself from a blow.

“Are you ready to be out with me?” Cas asked, and Dean winced. He gave a partial truth.

“Bobby and Ellen and Jo all know. They’re supportive.”

“That’s not what I asked, Dean. Supportive people are great, but what about the ones who will never support us? Are you going to come out to John, or keep hiding?” Cas demanded, his eyes full of tears. Meg glared at Dean from his side, her hand on Cas’ shoulder. Dean hated her for being allowed to touch him right then.

“Cas, I moved out, what does he matter?” Dean asked, begging Cas to see that they could be together now, without worrying about John.

“He matters because you’re still hiding! I won’t force you to come out, Dean. But I can’t be with you anymore. Not and be true to myself.” The roses were dropped in the box at Dean’s feet, and Cas quietly closed the door. Wiping away a stray tear, Dean pulled the flowers out of the box and set them on the doorstep, then took his belongings and walked slowly back to Baby. 

Sliding the box into the back seat, Dean sat behind Baby’s wheel for a long moment, then started her up and drove slowly across town. Pulling in past the salvage yard, he drove up to Bobby and Ellen’s house and found Ellen sitting on the front porch with a glass of lemonade. Leaving the box in the car for now, he stepped out and closed the door with a familiar creak of Baby’s hinges, then walked up the stairs.

“C’mon Dean, sit,” Ellen cajoled, and he sat on the steps opposite her, resolutely staring up at the sky so she couldn’t see how red his eyes were.

“I want him back, Ellen,” he whispered, and she wrapped an arm around his shoulders comfortingly.

“I know, kid. You two are good together. So how do you make it happen?”

“I dunno. I took him flowers today, he wouldn’t take them. He won’t be with me while I’m not out, but you know what John is like.” He shuddered at the thought of coming out to his dad, his mind shying away from the likely repercussions. 

Ellen shook her head. “No one can make you do that before you’re ready. You’re both so young. He’s forgetting you’ve got to live your life, too.”

“He’s right though. I’m hiding, and I’m scared, Ellen. But I don’t wanna lose him.”

“Whatever you decide, we’re here for you. You can stay as long as you need, you and Sammy both.”

Dean smiled at her gratefully, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“C’mon. Let’s get you some dinner, then the old man wants to talk to you about a restoration project.”

***

Dean continued to text Cas, begging him for another chance, but his messages went unanswered. A week passed, then two, then a familiar coughing engine sounded in the driveway. Dean’s shoulders rounded on themselves for a moment, then looking at Bobby and Ellen, he straightened. 

“We’re here, son,” Bobby murmured, patting his shoulder, and Dean stood. He walked slowly to the front door and out onto the porch, staring down at the yard where John was getting out of his truck.

“You ready to come home, son?” John demanded without preamble, and Dean tensed. 

“Why, so you can push me and Sammy around, and drink away the rent money?” he retorted, and John’s pleasant smile dissolved into a snarl.

“You’ll speak to me with respect when I’m talking to you, Dean. You’re still my son.” Dean heard it then. The possession in John’s words. His son, his house, his rules. All that mattered was how things belonged to him.

“Like hell. Respect is earned, and you drank yours away almost twenty years ago. Me and Sammy deserve better than you. And we’re not coming back.”

“So you think you’ve got a spine now?” John growled, and Dean marched down the steps to face his old man.

“More’n you’ve got, beating on your kids. For what? Having minds of our own? For not having dinner ready when you stagger home drunk?”

“For disrespecting me in my own house, not earning your keep! You live in my house, you earn that roof, or I’ll kick your ass to the curb!” John shouted, and Dean couldn’t help it, he laughed.

“That your problem? We left under our terms, and now you don’t have our money to pay for the rent. Shoulda thought of that before you started beatin’ on Sammy.” Dean growled, stepping forward and getting right in John’s face. “Well, tough shit. We’re not coming back to be beat. I’m done being your punching bag, and I’m done hiding. Cas was right about you.”

John slapped him, and Dean’s head spun as he staggered back on his heels. “Don’t you mention that little faggot to me.”

“Or what?” Dean demanded, his voice cracking. His hands were balled into fists at his side, and he heard the screen door creak behind him, but he kept going. “Or you’ll hit me again? Big deal, you’ve been beating on me since I was twelve, and guess what? I’m still standing up to you. And the reason I could was because Cas had my back.”

John stepped closer again, his fist raised. “Don’t mention him again,” he threatened.

Dean looked him square in the eye, and brought all the pain of the last two weeks of silence to the surface. “He always had my back, and that’s why I love him. I’ve been queer my whole life, but you’re so afraid of what people might think about you that--” He got no further before a meaty fist slammed into his face, knocking him sprawling to the ground. Dean curled onto his side, waiting for the next blow that never came.

“John Winchester, you get offa my property before I pull this trigger,” Bobby shouted from the porch, and Dean heard the familiar pump action of Bobby’s shotgun, the one he’d used to teach both boys how to hunt turkeys. 

“You mind your own, Bobby, the boy needs a lesson,” John barked, and Bobby snorted.

“What the boy needs is a goddamn man for a father, not a drunk bully. Now, you can leave the easy way — that’s me — or the hard way.” And Bobby jerked his chin to the side of the house, where Ellen was standing with a rifle pointed at John’s chest.

“Let me say it plain, John,” Ellen warned. “You so much as touch Dean or Sam again, I won’t miss.”

“You… you turned him against me, coddling him instead of teaching him to be a man!” John ranted, backing away. “Fucking faggot, he’s no son of mine!”

Dean heard John spit, the gob hitting the dirt driveway near him, but John continued to back away, eventually climbing into his truck and spinning out of the yard, kicking up gravel and dust as he went.

Climbing to his feet, Dean put a hand to his eye, wincing as his fingers came away bloody from a split on his cheek. One thing John knew how to do — other than drink — was throw a punch. Ellen came to his side with the rifle slung over her shoulder and looped an arm behind his elbow. 

“Inside, kiddo, let’s get some ice on that. Then I’m callin’ the Roadhouse to let Rufus know John ain’t drinkin’ there no more. Not letting him near Sammy.” Dean smiled gratefully and climbed the steps heavily, his vision starting to blur as his eye swelled.

“Thanks, Ellen. Thanks, Bobby.” 

“Nothin’ to be thankful for, kid, just doin’ right by you and your brother. It’s what Mary woulda wanted,” Bobby mumbled, and Dean froze for a moment at the mention of his mother. 

“Do you think she… would she hate me too?” he asked, and Ellen pulled him around to face her.

“She loved you more than anything, Dean, and she’d have been thrilled to see the way Cas loves you too.” 

Dean’s shoulders hunched at her words, then he glanced at her from under lashes spiked with tears. “Not anymore.”

“Bullshit, son,” Bobby groused from beside them, then turned to push himself to the kitchen. “You talk to that boy o’ yours. He’ll come around.”

Dean followed Ellen and Bobby into the kitchen where Ellen sat him at the table and handed him a bag of frozen peas for his eye, then she patted his shoulder and walked over to the phone. Dean listened with half an ear as she told Rufus John Winchester was banned for life, and Dean heaved a sigh of relief. Sammy bussed there weekends, and the last thing he wanted was another place John could go after him.

Pulling out his phone, he texted Cas.

Dean:  _ I need to talk to you, please answer me? _

A moment later his phone dinged, and his heart in his throat, he checked his messages, only to let out a sob. 

_ We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have received this message in error, please check the number and try again. _

Dialing frantically, he heard the phone ring only once before he got the automated voice telling him the same thing. Dropping his phone on the table, he blinked away tears that burned in his bruised eye, his shoulders slumped despondently.

Ellen patted his shoulder and Bobby cleared his throat. Unable to stand their sympathy, he stood and quickly grabbed his phone, shoving it into his pocket and heading for the stairs to his and Sammy’s room. Luckily Sammy wouldn’t be home for hours yet, and Dean dropped on the bed with his bag of peas, and let himself cry.

***

The next day, wincing as he poked at his cheek just below his spectacularly black eye, Dean tried to ignore Sammy as his brother yelled at him about John. More like  _ to _ him than  _ at  _ him, but the difference was small. 

"Seriously, go over to Cas' place and talk to him!"

"I already tried that, Sammy, he won't listen. He changed his number, he doesn't want to hear from me." 

"So call Charlie and Meg and get them to help! It's Open Mic night, I bet they can get him out for a few drinks, even if Charlie's stuck with cola. C'mon, Dean, he's the best thing that ever happened to you, you can't just give up!"

Dean bit his lip, thinking about it. Then he grabbed his phone and opened a group chat with Charlie and Meg.

Dean:  _ I need your help. _

Charlie:  _ anything! _

Meg:  _ why should I, Ken-doll? _

Rather than reply with words, Dean took a selfie. 

Meg:  _ who the hell busted your face? _

Dean:  _ my old man, when I told him I'm in love with Cas. _

Charlie: 🤬🤬🤬

Meg: …  _ what do you need? My unicorn is miserable. I don't like it. _

***

Dean spotted Cas and Meg at their usual table, and put his heart into the song. He saw Cas tense, refusing to look at the stage, and prayed this would work. He took a breath and sang the next lines.

_ I could put my arms around every boy I see _

_ But they'd only remind me of you… _

_ I went to the doctor, guess what he told me _

_ He said "boy you better try to have fun, no matter what you do," _

_ But he's a fool _

Cas' head whipped around at the clearly gay lyric choices and he made eye contact with Dean. He saw the moment Cas registered the nasty black eye still obscuring Dean's vision in his left eye.

His voice cracked as he continued with the final chorus of the song, but he kept singing. Finally he played the last few bars and fell silent, only to be overwhelmed as the Roadhouse erupted in cheers. He glanced over at the bar and saw Ellen wiping her eyes, a huge grin on her face. Stepping down from the stage, Dean was met with a backslap from Ash, and a huge hug from Jo.

"That's telling them, compadre," Ash told him proudly, and Dean grinned, though it pulled at his aching cheek. As he glanced around, he found mostly approving smiles. One sour face stuck out of the crowd, and he watched as Cole ran his mouth to Ellen. Snorting with laughter, Dean, Ash, and Jo watched as Ellen and Rufus pointed to the door and Cole stormed out.

Turning back to the bar, Dean found Cas at his elbow.

“Cas!” he exclaimed, only to wince as Cas gently touched his cheek.

“I didn’t want this. Dean, I never wanted you to get hurt,” Cas said softly, his blue eyes shining and distraught.

“Not your fault. You didn’t make me come out to my old man. I just blurted it out, how I feel about you. Next thing you know my head’s ringing, and Bobby and Ellen are pointing guns at the old bastard.”

Cas let out a surprised bark of laughter, and carefully, hesitantly took Dean’s hand. “How you feel about me? What did you say?”

Dean stared at Cas for a long moment, then brought his hand up to cup his cheek. “I told him I’m in love with you.”

Cas beamed at him, a great, gummy grin that shone with happiness. “I love you too. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have given you an ultimatum like that.”

Dean shook his head. “You were right, I was still hiding. But I’m done hiding now. I’m all yours.”

Cas leaned in and kissed him gently, and though Dean froze in surprise for a moment, he soon tangled his fingers in Cas’ hair and kissed him back. Resting his forehead against Cas’ as they broke apart, Dean sang softly.

“‘Cause nothing compares… to you.”

Cas snorted, shoving Dean playfully, then leaned closer and whispered in his ear. 

“Come over tonight?”

Dean met Cas’ eyes with surprise, the blue of his eyes nearly swallowed by his pupils blown wide and dark, and Dean swallowed even as he blushed.

“Absolutely.”

**Author's Note:**

> Cas and Dean are in a secret relationship because they can't let John know. John finds out Cas is gay and goes on a drunken rant and physically attacks Dean and Sammy, who is 17. Later when Dean confronts John and tells him he's in love with Cas, John punches him in the face.
> 
> There is a lot of homophobic language in this, please be warned.
> 
> Love Destiel? Over 18? Join us on Discord's [ Profound Bond ](https://discord.gg/rUFErcY) server for like-minded chats, friendly people, and inspiration for reading and writing!


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